Come In Closer
by meliz875
Summary: "She was intoxicating. She was unexpected, and Embry welcomed it, because for once in his life, there was nothing smart about what he was doing. There was nothing predictable about it. Absolutely none of it made sense, which is why he trusted it as much as he did." AU. Probably AH, but can be read however you please.


**Title**: Come In Closer  
**Pairing/character**: Embry  
**Rating**: MA  
**Genre**: Drama/Romance/Some smutty things ;)

AU/AH.

**Prompt**: SpongeBob … and "I came here to fuck bitches." Thanks, Chrissi... smh. ;)

**Summary**: She was intoxicating, unexpected, and Embry welcomed it. For the first time in his life, there was nothing smart about what he did. There was nothing predictable about it. Absolutely none of it made sense, which is why he trusted it as much as he did.

* * *

~oOo~

_**Suggested Listening: "Come in Closer" by Blue October, "West Coast" by Lana Del Rey**_

Slamming into the cool, bathroom wall, the impact didn't matter—all Embry felt was softness, warmth, _heat _pressed against his chest, the body it emanated from prone and willing beneath his hands.

He tried opening his eyes, but her lips captured his too quickly, the movement of her mouth against his stealing the fucking breath in his lungs and forcing his eyes shut in a useless attempt to gain his bearings.

He didn't—he _couldn't_, because she felt too good. She _tasted _too good, and Embry wanted to drown in every single feeling this girl pushed through his veins.

This girl… fuck, he didn't even know her name.

And the worst part was, in that moment, he didn't care.

Which is why it made no sense. There was no logic behind it, no good motivation except for a perpetual loneliness he couldn't escape. It resembled restlessness—a yearning for something more, for something maybe even a little dangerous and unexpected.

Because life for Embry until that point was a never-ending cycle of routine. He woke up, went to work, came home, and went to bed.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was like that for a long time. The monotony of it screamed at him, more in recent months than before.

Embry knew why…

He was _existing_, but he wasn't living… not really.

And the saddest part was it took him nearly twenty-six years to figure it out.

The night out was Paul's idea. He wanted them to meet his new girl.

"_It's nothing serious, but …"_

The words came straight from Paul's mouth, reason enough for Embry to consider declining the invitation.

Paul was Embry's best friend since childhood, and it was safe to say Embry knew him better than anyone. They grew up together, forming an even closer bond after Paul's mom took off when he was eight. Paul's father spiraled into a drunken downslide, often forgetting he had a son to care for, and Paul sought refuge with Embry and his mother, often for days at a time.

After high school, Paul hurried to escape their small reservation on Washington's Olympic Peninsula. His desire to cut ties with a place containing so many ghosts, so many bad memories, traveled with him long after he moved to a town forty-five minutes away.

The desire changed to disinterest-in putting down roots, in settling down, especially when it came to women.

And Paul liked it that way, so Embry knew meeting any girl in his life was a complete waste of time because they usually weren't around longer than a handful of weeks.

Paul was adamant about them meeting _this _girl, though. So while the night out at one of the more frequented bars in Port Angeles was Paul's idea, Quil—with a wag of his eyebrows and a lewd smirk—talked Embry into it.

_"Forget about Paul's girl," Quil pressed. "You're there to fuck some bitches. You need to fuck some bitches. Don't worry about anything else."_

But Embry didn't do that. Embry didn't _fuck bitches_. Quil did—at least he used to, before deciding to fall in love with a woman who kept both his heart and balls in her back pocket.

_But not him_.

Yet there he was, pressing the small, soft girl against a wall, his lips tracing heated patterns down her neck. Hands were fucking _everywhere — _his slid beneath her dress, massaging the thin sheen of sweat clinging to her body back into her skin. Hers reached around his body, gripping his ass, pulling him impossibly closer.

It wasn't close enough… because in that moment, Embry _was _living.

In that moment, it was so much more than _existing_.

He saw her the moment she walked into the bar.

Embry leaned against the counter, turning his glass in circles between his fingers and pretending to listen to Quil rattle on about something. Paul was late and Embry was losing patience. For a moment, he thought about finding an excuse to call it a night, because really, he wasn't in the mood for any of it…

Until she appeared.

She stood inside the entrance, and he looked up just in time. Fingers grasping her clutch, she scanned the room, looking for something or someone unknown to Embry.

He watched her. Unable to move, it was all he _could _do.

She wore a little black cocktail dress that clung to her curves, the fabric ending just above her knees. The neckline plunged, showing off the valley between her breasts and flawless, milky-white skin. Her pink lips glistened and long, dark hair tumbled over one shoulder, falling in waves down her chest.

Embry couldn't explain the feeling rushing through him in that second, a sudden, intense thrall, rendering him helpless the longer he allowed his gaze to drink in every square inch of her.

She was fucking _radiant_, enough to take his breath away.

Quil's voice faded into the background of Embry's consciousness when the girl suddenly blinked, remembering where she was as she moved—before Embry reminded himself to fucking breathe.

Before she walked right to where they stood.

Embry realized Quil finally stopped talking. Quil noticed the girl, too, appraising her as she crossed the distance between her and the bar. Embry tried to act casual, but Quil nearly broke his neck trying to follow her with his eyes, his head snapping in Embry's direction when the girl walked too far out of his line of sight.

Quil squeaked—fucking _squeaked_—when she stepped to the counter directly to Embry's left.

Quil nudged him with his elbow, eyebrows wagging like he was possessed, making sure Embry noticed her, too.

Embry noticed…

He noticed _more _than a girl. A small part of him already savored the faintest hints of vanilla and plum radiating from the small body next to him. He already listened to her frame casually move, the sound of her heels against wood when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

He already noticed the electricity shooting through his veins when she leaned against the bar, her arm inadvertently brushing against his.

He closed his eyes, fingers curling harder around his glass, when she huffed a perturbed sigh.

"What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"

The words belonged to her, but it took a second for Embry to realize she was speaking to him.

Opening his eyes, he turned, glancing down at the previously empty spot next to him.

She peered up at him, unabashed, her lips curling into a small smile when their eyes met.

_Say something, say something, say something…_

He was out of practice—at women in _general_. A reason existed for the lack of them in his life—for the lack of _anything_, really.

Six months earlier, the woman he dated for years left unexpectedly and without explanation. The only words she gave him—after he came home to empty drawers and a half-empty closet—was a hurried goodbye sent through a fucking text message.

_I need more… I'm sorry._

Embry spent plenty of time mulling it over, dreaming up hundreds of conclusions and reasons, none of which were confirmed or denied. She left. She left him and everything he gave her, and the most logical explanation he came up with was she craved something more … _exciting _than he offered her.

She was bored.

And the saddest part was, after taking a good, hard look at his life, Embry didn't blame her.

He had _nothing _to offer. He worked as a car mechanic at an auto shop on the Quileute Reservation. He didn't make a lot of money. His house was small and his life wasn't glamorous, and she knew, as much as he did, he wasn't leaving the small, square mile of La Push.

He possessed nothing to offer—nothing of real value, at least not to her.

And likely no one else, when he thought about it.

_But the girl standing next to him… _

Embry thought maybe he could start by at least offering her a drink. It was _something_, if nothing else.

"Apparently, you need to wear less clothes," Embry spoke without thinking, lifting his hand to signal the bartender at the opposite end of the counter, then glancing at the girl.

"Oh, really?" she replied, one eyebrow lifting.

Smiling, Embry reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. "Hypothetically," he emphasized, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill, "but I'm speaking for _most _guys. If you ask me, I think that dress looks incredible and the bartender is an idiot for ignoring you."

A grin erupted across her mouth and she peered down, picking at a piece of imaginary lint on her dress. "You don't think it's too much? I feel a little overdressed in this place," she admitted, surveying the aged bar with a woeful stare. "I wanted to look nice, though."

"Don't listen to whatever he's telling you! You're fine as _hell_, honey!"

Frowning, the girl rose on her tiptoes, peering over and around Embry.

Shaking his head, Embry was thankful she didn't see how hard he rolled his eyes.

After Quil captured her attention, she leaned back against the bar, a smile still resting on her lips. Wide, amused eyes asked Embry a silent question.

"He's with me," Embry grumbled, embarrassment warming his cheeks. "Just ignore him."

Embry was relieved when she offered Quil one last cautious look and him a genuine chuckle.

"You should tell your friend he's not going to pick up any girls with those lines," she teased.

"He already _has _a girl, lucky for him, and she loves the idiot just like he is," Embry replied in wonder, shaking his head. "I told him that for years, though, and he never listened."

Once the bartender took her drink order, she turned back to Embry, relaxing against the bar rail. "So what brings you guys out tonight?"

"Meeting some people," he answered, taking a sip of his whiskey and water.

"Me, too," she seconded. "I don't think they're here yet, though."

"Neither are ours," Embry murmured as the bartender slid her rum and Coke across the counter, toward her waiting hand. Embry watched when she wrapped her palm around the glass, his eyes traveling the length of her long, slender fingers to the tips of each one, nails painted a luminescent shade of sapphire blue.

"So …" she ventured again, bringing her drink to her mouth. Embry's gaze shifted with her movements until her eyes captured his over the rim of the glass. "Guess we'll just have to keep each other company until our people get here."

Embry grinned, fighting the sudden pull to look at her—nothing _but _her—and studying his glass instead.

"I guess so …"

They chatted, engaging in easy conversation about random things. It wasn't long until Quil occupied himself with someone on his other side, leaving Embry and the unknown girl to their own devices. She told him how she moved back to Washington several months earlier, so she didn't know many people. He returned her candor, explaining what he did for a living, adding it was the first time he went out in a while.

Embry silently swore at himself when she stopped talking and asked, "How come?"

Taking a deep breath, Embry gave her the truncated version, not wanting to subject her to some sob story she didn't need to hear, especially considering his goal was to put it behind him, too.

Still, no matter how much he diluted history for the sake of the girl standing next to him, he saw in her eyes flickers of sadness—traces of remorse she felt on _behalf _of a stranger who left, growing worse the more he talked.

Embry silently chastised himself. His goal wasn't to unload his baggage on her.

"It's not a big deal," he backpedaled, shaking his head and reaching for his drink.

"I know, but… my mom did that to my dad when I was little, and… it screwed him up for a long time, and I don't think he ever forgave her for it," she murmured, her words barely audible within the quickly-filling bar. "My dad didn't deserve it. I know that… and neither do you."

Embry's lips parted, something inside of him twisting in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

Her words surprised him. Fifteen minutes passed since they met, yet somehow she felt so confident saying it when, in reality, she hardly knew him at all.

But for whatever reason, it didn't seem to matter to her because when he glanced at her, his drink forgotten, she simply smiled.

And suddenly, he no longer cared—about his past, his inadequacies, the words he spoke.

All he cared about was her, the way she watched him, the tangible honesty in her eyes…

A softness promising some kind of safety she likely couldn't deliver so soon.

But Embry didn't care about that either. She believed her words, and that was all he needed.

But he asked anyway.

"How do you know?"

She shrugged. "Because I've met a lot of men in my life." Her smile tightened, like she held something in behind her lips. She took a deep breath. "And I've known enough to tell the good ones from the bad, and the liars from the ones who tell the truth. I can tell… you are not a liar or a bad guy."

Her eyes met his, and the feeling came back—the one he felt when he first saw her.

He wasn't a liar or a bad guy, like she said. But after months of blaming himself for everything wrong in his life—for the lack of _anything _in it—he didn't anticipate how incredibly good it might feel to hear those words.

Especially from _her _lips.

_This girl…_

A _stranger _who captured his eyes, his attention… his _everything _the moment she walked through the door.

A stranger and the first person in so long to make him feel worthy of her words, her attention…

_Her _everything.

He wanted to say something—_anything _to put words to the inexplicable, _palpable _feelings inside him, but Embry wasn't good with words and that moment was no exception.

His head swam the longer he held her gaze, and as another infinite moment passed, he suddenly couldn't remember what he wanted to say.

She broke the silence.

"What are you staring at?" she whispered, pulling him from his thoughts.

Blinking rapidly to clear his mind, Embry grinned, an ounce of clarity returning as he realized how stupid he probably looked. Turning away, he let his distracted gaze travel over the liquor bottles lined up behind the bar.

"Nothing, I mean… It's just… "

"What?"

Her voice was soft, patient… _intoxicating_.

Embry chewed on his bottom lip, releasing it with an anxious chuckle. Taking a deep breath, he turned, his eyes capturing hers.

She waited, her nose wrinkling, the corners of her mouth slowly lifting, rewarding him with an anticipant smile.

He smiled, too. It was all he _could _do, because—though he had no idea what he might accomplish or what might come of it—he needed to tell her.

_More than he needed anything… _

"You're beautiful," he whispered, unable to look away when her lips parted in surprise, captive eyes watching him, waiting, like he spoke something forbidden.

Like he said something she wanted—something she _needed _to hear.

Neither spoke, but he slowly leaned toward her, his gaze lowering, eyes tracing the curve of her pink lips. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, taste her, _breathe in_ this beautiful girl that somehow grabbed hold of him and refused to let go.

Before he closed the excruciating space between them, she blinked, breaking his reverie when her eyes jerked away.

"I, uh…" she stammered, offering the floor a sheepish smile. Chancing a cautious glance at Embry, she stepped away. "I need to go to the ladies room."

Yet before she walked away, her smile turned warm, an expression filled with a hundred words she didn't speak and even more meanings lost somewhere within.

He watched her go, his heart pounding harder with each step she took, widening the distance between them and increasing Embry's chance of never seeing the girl again.

The anxious knot—the panic—in his stomach grew until he felt Quil elbow him in his side.

Regardless, Embry's eyes didn't falter.

"Dude. You can't just let her go…"

A single deep breath marked the moment Embry completely lost his head.

A moment he _knew _would change his world…

"I wasn't planning on it."

He heard Quil speaking behind him, encouraging him. He didn't need it though, because he stepped away from the counter, his feet taking him in a different direction without seeking permission from anyone, least of all himself.

He followed her…

Because Embry was a man possessed, and despite not having a plan—despite not knowing his end goal—each step felt completely and unapologetically _right_.

The crowd in the bar disappeared as Embry strode across the room with speed and purpose, turning into the dark hallway near the back of the building. He stopped near the end of the passageway, unsure if he stood in front of the right door.

It didn't matter. It was too late to think about it—to question it—when his arm lifted from his side, hand splayed across the wood just below a sign clearly marked 'women.'

He pushed open the door.

Dark as the hallway, there was still enough light in the bathroom to illuminate her small frame. She stood in front of the sink, gripping tight the edges of the counter with both hands, her shoulders rising and falling against heavy, labored breaths.

If she heard him come in, she didn't let on.

At least not until the door latched, jerking her from whatever thought kept her distracted.

Embry watched her in the mirror when her eyes snapped up, immediately locking with his. The light above the mirror, coupled with the darkness of the room, cast shadows on her features, bathing them in an almost ethereal glow.

God, the way she looked—the way she looked _at him_—made it harder than hell to breathe. The small bathroom was scorching, hot enough for beads of sweat to collect on the back of Embry's neck, his body's reaction exacerbated by his struggle to draw air into his lungs.

Exacerbated by the way she _still fucking looked at him_.

Embry leaned against the door when she finally looked down. Turning to face him, her hands reached behind her to grasp the counter, chest heaving as she tried to catch her own breath.

She met his gaze, her eyes filled with a consuming need, a compulsion neither understood.

Embry's lips parted, but he didn't speak when she let her dark eyes wander, releasing his to travel down, studying his body.

Her burning stare landed on his hand, curled tightly around the doorknob.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Embry's hand moved, fingers grasping the door lock. He turned it slowly, his heart stuttering when they both heard the lock slide securely into place.

The smallest noise—the promise of solitude away from a world waiting just on the other side of the door—freed both from whatever rooted them in place.

She moved when he did. Everything moved, so fast—so fucking fast, but it didn't matter.

Embry's eyes closed long before eager hands framed her face—long before desperate fingers clawed his chest, each part of her filling his other senses moments before his lips found hers.

Before everything inside Embry, for a single moment, fell securely into place…

With no idea how many minutes passed, the shock of the cool wall behind her back brought him out of his head. The concrete was a jarring contrast from everything else, soothing Embry's flesh, on fire from the breathy moans spilling from her mouth.

Fingers skimming the outside of her thighs, Embry's hands disappeared beneath her dress, his thumbs catching the edge of her panties. Wrapping her arms tight around his neck, she arched her back, allowing him to slip the lacy fabric from her body.

It was all he needed.

Embry knew there was no turning back.

_He couldn't turn back..._

Curling his hands under her thighs, he lifted her in one swift, effortless movement. A surprised cry slipped from her mouth when her back collided hard with the wall, Embry's hands pushing up her dress, the fabric gathering around her hips.

Level with Embry, she allowed him a brief moment to peer into her eyes, to see _exactly _what would happen reflected back to him.

_He shouldn't... _

But she closed her eyes, ending his doubt when she gripped his face, lips meeting his and replacing his hesitance with the same urgency that possessed him the moment the door lock clicked into place.

Consuming Embry all over again.

And he welcomed it...

Because for once in his life, there was nothing smart about what he planned to do. There was nothing predictable about it.

Absolutely none of it made sense, which is why he trusted it as much as he did.

Long, slender legs hugged Embry's hips. She held herself in place when he reached down, one hand fumbling with the button of his jeans until he freed himself from the obtrusive fabric. Arching into his body once more, her fingers curled hard into his shoulders as he thrust forward, burying his aching cock inside her warm, wet heat without a single moment of hesitation.

_Fuck, it was so much..._

Embry held himself inside her, white-hot flashes of light misfiring behind closed eyelids. Feeling her body around his, he was dizzy, disoriented

It was _too much_, yet not even close to enough.

_He needed more…_

And he took it, hanging on to her—this girl whose name he still didn't know—with every ounce of strength inside him. Running his nose along the curve of her neck, he pulled out, slamming into her again.

A guttural cry tore from her small body, her knees digging helplessly into his ribs. Clutching at his t-shirt, her hands held him tight as he moved—slowly at first before his strokes came faster, harder, more purposeful. Unforgiving fingernails scraped through to his flesh, silently reassuring Embry she didn't want him to stop. For her own reasons, she needed it as much as he did.

Needed _him_…

When her fingers knotted through his hair, hot puffs of ragged breaths washing over his cheek, he _knew _she did.

"Fuck … " she breathed, nipping at his earlobe with her teeth when Embry slowed his movements, circling his hips at an agonizingly slow pace and rocking into her again. She moaned, her body's reaction prompting a visceral shudder to crawl up Embry's spine.

"Don't stop," she begged, breathless and exhausted."Please... _Please_."

A growl rumbled in his chest and he planted his feet on the floor, bracing, preparing to give what she demanded.

Because in that moment, he would give her _anything—_all she needed to do was ask.

Dragging his tongue along her pulse, Embry tasted sweat collecting on her skin. He straightened, giving himself more leverage as he brushed panting lips against her cheek. Traces of vanilla seeped into his senses while his shift in position, his strengthened movements, caused her tiny body to slam into the wall—repeatedly, over and over, until the sound of her intoxicating moans wrapped around Embry's insides, reigniting that fire.

The feeling was euphoric, maddening in the best way possible, heightened by how her body held his, the way she tasted, her smell, the way visceral tremors rolled off her flesh.

It was _all too much_.

Embry's movements turned frantic, his rhythm faltering when her head rolled back, as her body clamped around him, her release mingling with his as it unraveled deep within.

With a vehement cry, every ounce of pressure erupted—every unexplained urge, every flicker of need he possessed inside him emptied into this girl who, at that moment, held Embry in the palm of her hand.

For several long moments, neither moved, both paralyzed from the delirious sensations coursing through their bodies. Closing his eyes, Embry struggled to catch his breath. The air in the small bathroom reeked of sweat and sex, undeniable proof of what happened, but Embry, refusing to let her go, couldn't bring himself to care.

Turning his face, he noticed her shaking, eyes closed as she came down from her own high and tried to gather her bearings.

Bracing against the wall with one arm, Embry held her with the other. Leaning in, he placed kiss after gentle kiss on her hair, temple, cheek, until her lips curled into the smallest of smiles.

Until she opened her eyes.

When she slowly turned her head to meet his gaze, Embry tried like hell ignore the flicker of regret he swore he noticed in them.

Whatever he saw disappeared as quickly as it materialized.

Instead, she leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Embry's lips, the gesture a sharp contrast from all the rest, so much slower than before.

She ended it too soon for Embry, pulling back and angling her head away before he came to more conclusions.

He felt a pang of disappointment in his gut, a too-familiar, cloying sensation he hated but, in that case, couldn't explain. He stepped back, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips when his body pulled from hers. She trembled in his arms when he placed her back on two feet, forced himself to let go—to look away, turn around and give her a semblance of privacy in order to put herself back together while he did the same.

What they did… that wasn't him, but deep down, he hoped what he saw in her eyes, that single second of uncertainty from earlier, wasn't what he suspected.

That maybe what happened wasn't _exactly _what Quil told him to do…

Or exactly what it _appeared _to be.

"I … " Behind him, her voice sounded a million miles away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have …"

"Don't apologize," Embry interrupted, her words validating his fear as he buttoned his jeans, running a shaky hand through his disheveled hair. The words jarred him, though, because he heard the self-blame in her voice. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who came after you."

Embry heard silence, followed by a strangled sound of protest leaving her throat.

"Yeah, but …" she countered, her voice cutting off, none of it convincing Embry she believed her own words.

Rubbing his face, Embry took a deep breath before turning to face her.

A few feet away, she stood readjusting her dress to the correct places on her body. It gave Embry a handful of seconds to watch her. He couldn't help but smile, the flames inside him giving way to a comfortable warmth he hadn't felt in too long.

"But _what_?" he murmured, one eyebrow lifting.

Straightening the neckline of the dress, her lips parted, a painful silence passing between them before she glanced in Embry's direction.

Shaking her head, she offered him a small, though suddenly shy smile. "It's just … I've never done anything like this before. I'm not usually this kind of girl… "

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Embry smiled anyway, bits and pieces of their conversation from earlier filtering back into his mind.

"I'm not usually this kind of guy."

She grinned before biting down on her bottom lip to contain it. Still, a blush exploded on her cheeks, creeping slowly down her neck until it reached her chest. Lifting her hand to her sternum, she tried hiding it and peered at him, uncertainty in her eyes.

"I can go out first, unless… "

She stopped, a nervous gaze fixed on Embry, waiting for input.

Hands curling into fists, Embry hesitated.

He recognized the moment. He knew what it was, and he couldn't force himself to speak because he knew what that meant, too. He knew the moment he did—the second he turned and walked out the door—there was a chance he might never see her again.

_Never…_

"So, that's it?" he asked, the words falling from his lips without permission.

His tone held no assumptions, but still her smile faded, replaced by an uncertain frown. Glancing away, she moved, crossing to the sink and retrieving her clutch. Reaching into it, her hand emerged with a lipstick case. She removed the lid and finally met Embry's gaze in the mirror.

"I … I don't know," she murmured, peering down before her eyes refocused on her reflection in the mirror. "It's just… " she paused, staring down the beautiful woman in the mirror, lipstick held tightly between her fingers.

Embry crossed his arms in front of his chest, taking a step back, unsure of why those words—the ones she couldn't say—hit him like a punch to the gut.

But before Embry thought more about it, she sighed, taking a quick swipe with the lipstick over both lips. Replacing the cap, she threw it into her clutch…

But her hand lingered, for a few excruciating seconds, before she again reached into the small bag, emerging with a pen and piece of paper clasped between her fingers.

When she turned around, every ounce of dread within Embry evaporated. He smiled, savoring the similar response pulling at her lips.

Tucking her clutch between her arm and body, she approached him, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she crossed the small space separating them. Eyes meeting his, she stopped directly in front of him.

She was close enough to invade his senses, for him to smell lingering traces of vanilla and keep the scent inside him for later—close enough for him to clearly see the blush in her cheeks and glistening drops of sweat still lingering on her forehead.

Close enough for him to reach out and touch her…

He fucking wanted to touch her—more than anything. Again, all the time—it didn't matter

In outstretched fingers, she offered Embry the pen, encouraging him to glance down.

Taking it, Embry chuckled, Feeling light—playful, almost—he stole his chance and captured her opposite hand in his larger one. Turning it gently between his fingers so her palm faced up, he lifted the pen, quickly scribbling a ten-digit phone number on the random business card tucked securely beneath her thumb.

"I'm, uh… not so good at phones, but…" she stammered.

When Embry's gaze slowly shifted up, she swallowed, wide, racing eyes holding Embry's captive.

"I'll … I'll call you," she promised with a nod. "I could use a few more friends that don't live halfway across the country. Maybe… maybe we can have lunch some time."

Her words ceased, but she didn't glance away. The way she watched him, her bottom lip tucked tightly between her teeth, was too much for Embry. He could deal with 'friends', if he had to, but he wanted more—more of what happened minutes earlier, more of those eyes, more of _her_.

Because looking at her in that moment, he _knew _it was her—he knew she was the source, the reason behind why he suddenly felt more alive than he had in months.

He couldn't help it. His free hand lifted, pushing through her hair as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

Needing to remember how she felt, how she tasted, he committed the girl to memory.

To all five senses, just in case 'friends' never happened.

In case more was impossible.

He lingered for a second longer, and he was grateful when she kissed him back, returning it with a depth he didn't expect.

She pulled away first, as Embry expected she might. Eyes still closed, the muscles in her face relaxed as she cataloged whatever moment she wanted to keep, too.

Finally, her eyelids fluttered open.

Searching her eyes, Embry grinned, an automatic response when he found no traces of the regret he swore he saw earlier.

"It was… _really _nice meeting you, uh… " she whispered with a smile, leaning her cheek into his palm.

"Embry," he offered quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before reluctantly dropping his hands to his sides.

"Embry… " she repeated.

When she smiled again, Embry noticed the single dimple in her right cheek.

He didn't intend to stare, forcing her to step away first. Turning toward the sink, it pulled Embry from his reverie, signifying the end of a stolen moment he wouldn't forget, regardless of what came next.

Taking solace in her words, reluctant feet carried him from the bathroom.

Emerging from the dark hallway, dingy lighting and classic rock assaulted Embry's senses. Taking a deep breath, Embry ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the notes of vanilla and plum still lingering on his t-shirt as he approached the spot he abandoned at the bar.

Upon Embry's return, Quil was no longer by himself.

"Fuck, there you are, man!" Paul exclaimed, his errant gaze locating Embry in the crowd of people. "Quil said you went to the bathroom, and that was almost fifteen minutes ago."

Embry chuckled, grinning as he approached the friend he hadn't seen in several weeks. "Sorry, man," he greeted Paul, grabbing his hand and pulling him for a half-hug. "I got distracted." Clapping Paul on the back, Embry stepped into his abandoned place next to Quil.

"I'll say," Paul lifted an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We were about to send a damn search team in there after you."

Shrugging, Embry turned toward the bar, noticing his whiskey and water was refilled. "It wasn't that serious," he murmured, reaching for the drink.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed a few sips of the cool liquid, relishing the burn it created as it slid down his throat.

_So much like another fire …_

Opening his eyes, Embry slammed the glass down on the bar. Throwing a cursory glance over his shoulder at Paul, he frowned at his distracted friend. "Wait, you weren't supposed to be here alone, were you?"

"That's what I said," Quil retorted with an exaggerated shrug. "Let me tell you, if it was just this asshole we were coming out for, I wouldn't have shaved or showered or… put on pants, to be honest."

"Thanks for your consideration, Q," Paul muttered, distracted hematite eyes scanning the bar. "I'm sure that rule of thumb will come in handy for your engagement party this weekend."

"That fucking party was _not _my bright idea," Quil mumbled, sloshing the content of his glass in a circle. "God damn future mother-in-laws…"

"Whatever, dude," Paul waved off Quil. "And you know, it won't fucking kill you to _not _look like a homeless person for a change. Seriously. I don't even know how Leah let's you outta your cage some days."

"No cage… but sometimes, there _are _handcuffs. And _sometimes, _I get special favors when I bring out the beads," Quil grinned, lifting his glass in a mock salute.

Paul grimaced. "Too far, man," he muttered. "File _that _under shit I coulda went the rest of my life without knowing."

"You opened that can of worms, asshole," Quil chuckled, lowering his glass to the bar and frowning. "Speaking of women, where is this girl of yours anyway? Starting to think you made her up."

Embry shook his head, rolling his eyes at the pair of men next to him. Leaning against the bar, he tried drowning them out. He instead focused on to the rush of whatever pushed through his veins, feeding the feeling of elation, of _happiness_, collecting in every corner of his body.

Hanging on to it as long as possible.

"She should be here," Paul assured behind him.

Taking another sip of his drink, Embry saw Paul out of the corner of his eye, checking his watch. He saw him scan the bar, looking for a girl who likely wasn't half as dependable as Paul convinced himself she was.

_Big surprise_, Embry thought with a morose shake of his head. _He actually sounded kinda serious about this one…_

"I told her eight o'clock, so … oh, shit! There she is!"

Embry spoke too soon.

Smiling at nothing in particular, he heard Paul's retreating footsteps, meeting their final guest. Knocking back one last swallow of his drink, Embry straightened, placing the glass on the counter and turning to face the others…

He froze.

Next to him, Quil made the smallest of horrified noises deep in his throat.

Embry's world quaked beneath his feet.

His heart stopped—it fucking _stopped_, every wisp of air leaving his chest in a single exhale—when he saw the girl headed their way, the one directly in Paul's path.

The girl… Paul's new girl.

_Paul's…_

The same girl who stood several feet away, ignoring Paul as he approached her.

The same girl looking directly at _Embry_—staringat _him_, the pink drained completely from her cheeks.

The same girl who, only minutes earlier, pressed herself against _Embry's _body. The same girl whose fingernails raked across _Embry's _skin. The same girl who fell apart under _Embry's _touch.

Stomach lurching, Embry swallowed back bile.

And he hoped—with every fucking thing inside him, _he hoped_ he was wrong. He hoped Paul walked past her, toward someone else.

But he wasn't.

Paul _didn't_.

Everything Embry experienced moments earlier—the happiness, the thrilling elation—dissipated as quickly as it came. Replacing it was a heavy, sickening feeling of dread—of shame and guilt—rooted right in the fucking center of his being.

Blinking, Embry threw every ounce of concentration into his focus, meeting her eyes, silently pleading for answers she wouldn't give, at least not there or in that moment.

And she gave nothing away. Judging by the glassy shock in her gaze, she had no idea who Embry was—no fucking clue.

But the puzzle pieces were no longer scattered. Everything found its place, and there was no denying the truth.

Closing his eyes, Embry tried to gather his bearings. Sucking in a deep breath, he opened each one again. He looked in time to see Paul stop in front of her.

Jerking her head toward Paul, she blinked—once, twice, three times, before coming to her senses.

And time slowed down, seconds turning infinite, dragging out to a pace that ensured Embry paid attention—that left him no choice but to notice, to watch Paul frame her face with his hands, bending at the waist and covering her mouth in a slow, affectionate kiss.

Embry nearly doubled over. He wanted nothing more than to look away, but he couldn't, his head swimming with a million different thoughts, regrets, _questions _when Paul turned, clasping her hand and leading her to him and Quil.

Embry couldn't fucking think, but somehow, in that moment, he managed to think of her—_only _her.

Somehow, he found liquid brown eyes locked on him, her face a mixture of apology and words she wanted to say…

Clouded by a heavy fog of uncertainty and confusion.

He watched her. Looking away was impossible, even when Paul pulled her to his side. In turn, her eyes followed Embry when Paul spoke, introducing her to an absent audience.

Embry lost the focus needed to hear him. The words, the noise, every fucking thing around them faded the more Paul talked.

Until he said her name.

The name—a small detail Embry would have been better off _not _knowing—reached inside him, crawling through his veins and accomplishing the impossible, extinguishing that overwhelming knot of dread sitting smack in the middle of his chest.

_Just for a moment… _

"This is Bella… Bella Swan."

The sounds of the bar, of Quil next to him, Paul next to her—it all crashed down around Embry. Still, he saw Paul grin, both his words and gesture eventually bringing Embry swiftly back to Earth.

Bella swallowed thickly, lifting her hand and offering it to Embry. Her fingers trembled, and Embry hoped like hell only he noticed.

His hand reached out to take hers in a gentle shake, a friendly greeting to everyone outside that moment.

She held on for a second longer than necessary, but it gave Embry the time he needed to yank himself from her spell.

He glanced at Paul.

The other man didn't notice his onlooker. He didn't pay attention to where Embry and Bella's hands joined.

Instead, Paul watched her—_only _her.

_Only her … _

And that's when it hit him, hard enough it felt like someone punched Embry in the stomach—because one look at Paul, the devotion on his face, the _love _in his eyes, negated any feelings Embry had or history he could use to belittle the relationship in front him.

He knew that feeling. He knew that look.

And no matter what Paul suggested—no matter how he downplayed their relationship—Bella wasn't like the rest. She wasn't like the girls before her.

She _was _a big deal.

And no matter what happened after that minute, or in the handful leading up to it, Embry was completely and undeniably screwed.

Embry turned his gaze back to Bella.

She hesitated, helpless lips parting as she held his rapt stare.

Taking a deep, concealed breath, Embry squeezed her hand tighter before releasing it

It did what he hoped, giving her strength somewhere to steel her features and offer him a composed smile.

"It's nice to meet, you … um … " she murmured, her voice steady, clear, giving nothing away.

Embry stepped back, ignoring the others and everything sure to come after, gifting her a smile in return.

"Embry," he whispered. "It's nice to meet you, too, Bella."

* * *

.

_Well, SON OF A BITCH._

_I heart love triangles — CLEARLY — and the kinds of emotional messes only the most batshit-crazy writers want to create and clean up. ALSO clearly._

_I won't even pretend I didn't leave this open-ended on purpose …_

_Thoughts? *grins*_


End file.
